Harshly, Sweetly You
by Phoenix Dayze
Summary: When Zack first joined SOLDIER he was young and impetuous, and he terrorized poor Seph... But fate calls and emotions run wild. Will these two drastically different men be able to find a way into each other's arms?
1. Rookie

Never Lost

By: Jades

(Zack/Cloud, Sephiroth/Zack)

NC-17

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any characters therein, and I make absolutely no profit from this story.

Sephiroth sighed as he watched the new recruits run through basic drills for the hundredth time. _This_ was what he'd been promoted to General for? To watch dozens of ignorant whelps make fools of themselves before being rejected from the SOLDIER program? It seemed a little pointless, and more than a little aggravating. He should be on the field, making life and death decisions, seizing victory at the tip of his sword. That was, after all, what he had been trained to do.

His hands clenched at his side, the rough leather of his gloves stretching with a slight crackling sound. Shiva, he wanted to _move_, wanted to lay into these fickle men and show them what a real warrior was like. That course of action was ill advised to say the least, but that didn't make it any less desirable. The image of the rowdy men lying crumpled and moaning on the ground with himself standing smug and satisfied amongst the carnage of his own creation was enough to bring a wisp of a feral smile to his lips, and did absolutely nothing to abate the temptation growing within him. His fingers flexed. They ached to fly, to take, to _satisfy_. His hand moved, inching closer and closer to the hilt of his sword.

The door slammed with a loud, reverberating bang, and Sephiroth whipped his head around with all the others as hard, clunking footsteps glanced off the slatted floor of the practice room. A young, red-faced teenager slid to a halt before him, his hand raised in a half-hearted salute, the credence of which was lessened even further by the unapologetic grin plastered over his face. His chest heaved under his uniform shirt that stretched a bit to tight across his broadening shoulders. The boy's impossibly dark hair jutted up in unruly spikes, a few strands falling into his large, well-set violet eyes. When he spoke, it was in a husky purr, his voice already having deepened, despite his youth. "Private Donovan reporting for training, General Sir!"

Sephiroth blinked. What in Shiva's name was Shinra thinking? Didn't he have it bad enough with the group of intellectually challenged, coordination deficient lumps of glorified chocobo dung he already had? What was he supposed to do with this ragtag, cocky little runt? _Not so little. _His mind chided. _He has a good inch on you in the shoulders at least. _His eyes roamed the boy's semi-slouched form. _And possible the hips as well. _He released a breath he wasn't aware that he'd been holding. At least he wouldn't have to worry about him getting crushed by some other over-zealous cadet like that fool last week.

He gave the boy another once-over and fixed him with a firm stare. "Why…" he drew the word out for emphasis, "are you late?"

The barest hint of red graced the boy's cheeks and his eyes glittered. "I was indulging in a rather personal form of stress relief." He said, looking right at him, unabashed, unembarrassed. "I lost track of the time, Sir."

A small crease formed between Sephiroth's brows, as he tasted the boy's words. Did he just admit to being tardy because he was pleasuring himself? What kind of kid was this? A few of the other cadets snickered, making sarcastic comments out of the corner of their mouths to the man standing next to him. Sephiroth brought an exasperated hand to his forehead. "Private…Donovan, was it?"

"Zack."

Sephiroth looked up at him. "What?"

"It's Zack, Sir. Zackary Donovan." He squared his shoulders, his pride evident.

Sephiroth smiled inwardly. So this…Zack…was not only comfortable with who he was, he was proud. That was a pleasant change. It was rare to find someone who bore their name with confidence, much less someone who was still struggling to find their place in the world. "Well, Zackary Donovan, from now on make it a point to 'relieve your stress' on your own time." He gave him a wry look. "If you're late again, I assure you that it will be quite awhile before you'll be able to use that excuse again."

Zack's eyes widened slightly and he stood a little straighter as he realized exactly what Sephiroth was threatening. "Sir, yes, Sir!"

"Now," Sephiroth said with a wave. "Arm yourself and make ready; I want to see what you're capable of."

Zack grinned then, his posture instantly changing from reined in respect, to easy self-assurance. The boyishness lurking along the slender lines of his body dissipated as soon as his hand closed around the hilt of one of the training swords, leaving behind a honed determination tinged with unmatched grace.

Sephiroth's throat went dry. Zackary Donovan, the slouched, rumpled mess of a cadet had just transformed from boy to man instantly before his eyes. It was a radical, impossible change, one that spoke of maturity and deeper instincts, and Sephiroth found this new, wired body much more appealing than the one he'd been scrutinizing earlier. He waved his hand and one of his better cadets stepped forward, sword at ready. Another wave, and the battle commenced.

To say that Zack was good would have been a misuse of the word. He was incredible. His moves were smooth and sure, his reflexes phenomenal, his skill unmatched by any trainee Sephiroth had seen. When Zack made it into SOLDIER, and Sephiroth knew that he would, and received his Mako enhancements, he would be damn near unstoppable.

Sephiroth's eyes followed Zack's body as he moved across the floor of the practice room, working his blade, pulling off moves that most of his cadets hadn't mastered by graduation. The lazy confidence that the man wore was eye-catching, his easy grace, his lean muscles that seemed to harden before Sephiroth's eyes, his toned body that knew itself—its talents and its limits—so well, that his fluid movements seemed as casual as breathing.

Heat boiled beneath Sephiroth's skin, a curl of arousal twisting through him as he watched. Zack in motion was a beautiful thing, an intoxicating, dangerous mix of fierce sensuality and soft fatality. In all his nineteen years, Sephiroth had never seen anyone this skilled, and the possibilities that flooded his mind were endless, and more than a little inappropriate. Zack's body was a beautifully mastered weapon and Sephiroth longed to possess it, to wield it as he would his sword, to hold its power in his hands.

Zack ended with a flourish that would have made a vain man blush, and he hoisted his sword up over his shoulder. He stared over at Sephiroth, waiting.

Sephiroth swallowed, then waved him over. "Where did you learn to fight like that, Private?"

"I told you," Zack said, not answering his question, "its Zack."

"I think…Private," Sephiroth said sternly, a light frown creasing his brow, "that you should answer the questions you are asked."

Zack flipped the sword over to another cadet, who caught it easily. His arms crossed loosely over his chest. "You wanna know what I think…General?" That last was tacked on like an afterthought rather than any real respect for the title. "I think," Zack said, moving closer, "that you're entirely too tense. You should relax, take the stick out of your ass, and live a little!" As if to demonstrate his point, Zack's hands seized Sephiroth's face, and standing on tiptoe, he leaned in and sucked Sephiroth's bottom lip into his mouth.

Sephiroth's eyes widened, the green flaring behind the rapidly dilating black slits. Before he could protest, before he could even _move_, Zack's tongue was pushing between his lips, silencing any possible attempt at speech. Zack's tongue was hard and slick, as lithe and toned as the rest of him. It moved in Sephiroth's mouth with all the grace and skill that the man had shown himself to bear, gently bringing Sephiroth to arms, calling him out to duel with him. And duel they did, Sephiroth's urgent hunger overruling his senses as he forced Zack to retreat back into his own mouth, tongue following to completely supplant this man who had so recklessly attacked him. It was harsh, ardent, and real, and the two men traded dominance as often as their opponent would allow.

Sephiroth gasped in lungfuls of air as Zack finally broke the kiss, pushed back from his body, and skittered away, laughing. But his face was flushed, and his eyes were twin rings of royal purple around a void of churning lust. Sephiroth forced his body back under control, and ordered Private Donovan to drop and give him two hundred or be put on lavatory duty for a month.

As Zack dropped to the ground, his lean form spread out in a straight, muscled line and began to count off, Sephiroth smiled contentedly to himself. Not exactly a pile of bloodied cadets, but close enough. This Zackary Donovan was a cocky little bastard, he was disrespectful and more than likely going to be a hell of a lot more trouble than he was worth, but he had nerve, and Sephiroth liked that. He subconsciously licked against his lower lip, which still tingled from Zack's onslaught. Yes, he liked it a lot.

tbc


	2. The Incident

Never Lost

By: Jades

(Zack/Cloud, Sephiroth/Zack)

NC-17

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any characters therein, and I make absolutely no profit from this story.

Everything was fine until that inevitable day finally came. It was to be expected really. It was bound to happen eventually. Sephiroth stood, watching the clock over his cadets' heads. It was twenty minutes past the hour, and Zack was nowhere to be seen. Sephiroth found himself torn between hoping that Zack had a viable excuse and praying that he didn't. He didn't want the man to get into too much trouble, he was good after all, but the idea of being able to seek Zack out and put him in his place was undeniably appealing. Some days it was good to be the General, and any day that Zack put a toe out of line was one of those days.

For the last six weeks, Zack had been leading Sephiroth on a merry chase, forcing him to reprimand the man when he would have much rather been extracting other forms of punishment. And while Zack hadn't so much as laid a finger on the General since that first day, Sephiroth could still feel the heat of that kiss on his lips. In fact, Zack's behavior that day could be chocked up to showing face that first day so that everyone knew who they were dealing with. Since then, he hadn't been so much a troublemaker as just lazy.

He stared up at the clock again. Half past. He cursed inwardly. Zack was asking for trouble, and damn if he wouldn't get it. Over the course of the day, he went from annoyance, to worry, to confused ire, to being outright pissed. Zack's dead body better be mutilated in a ditch somewhere between here and the barracks, otherwise, no amount of Mako would help Zack once Sephiroth got his hands on him.

Sephiroth cracked his knuckles with suppressed fury as he made his way to his office. He'd finally gotten rid of all those sorry excuses for cadets, sending them off to other things. He was dead tired of dealing with morons all day, and Zack's absence hadn't done a thing to improve his mood. It kind of annoyed him that he still had to locate and ream the younger man when all he wanted now was a break. He'd rather save the outing for later when he would enjoy it more.

Pushing open the door to his office, he was about to shrug out of his coat when an entirely too cheery voice assailed his ears.

"Hey, Seph!"

Sephiroth turned, with no small amount of rage playing over his features, to face the dark-haired recruit, who was, at this very moment, reclined in Sephiroth's chair, with his large, booted feet propped up on the desk. He blinked rapidly as his pupils wavered sporadically with the frustration he'd kept bottled all day. "Why. Weren't. You. At. Drills?" Sephiroth hissed through clenched teeth, each word a separate threat.

Zack shrugged, an easy grin on his face. "I slept in, so I figured, what the hell, now's as good a time as any to see where the elusive General holes himself up…when he's not torturing us poor, innocent kids that is."

Sephiroth couldn't be sure, and he would never admit it if he was, but he might have actually sputtered. "Torture?…Innocent??…And I do _not_ hole myself up!…And get the _hell out of my chair!_" Sephiroth's normally placid voice rose steadily, and his face flushed a very appealing shade of red. He realized with a growl that he'd left his sword in the practice room, and that only served to push him closer to the edge of his rapidly dispersing sanity.

He lunged at Zack, hands outstretched, intent on strangling the man and having done with the whole damn thing. But just as his fingers connected with flesh, Zack slithered out of his grasp, reappearing halfway across the room, where he bounced from one foot to the next, eyeing Sephiroth warily as if trying to anticipate his next move. He gave a nervous chuckle, but his grin never faltered. "Gee, Seph," he jested, "I thought I told you to get rid of that stick weeks ago."

If Sephiroth moved, Zack didn't see. The next thing he knew, he was yanked off of his feet, thrown against the wall, with one of the General's hands locked tightly around his neck, and the other one making itself painfully known between his thighs. He choked, trying to draw in a breath around Sephiroth's iron grip and failing miserably.

Sephiroth's emerald eyes had darkened to vibrant green-black, almost indistinguishable from the slitted pupils, and they glittered with feral purpose. His voice was back to its usual husky calm, with a little extra ice for emphasis. "What did I tell you, Private, about being late?"

"Not to do it." Zack wheezed, his face turning red from lack of oxygen. "Or I lose my dick." He winced as the General squeezed. Hard. He would have let out a pained whimper if he could have.

Danger lined Sephiroth's face, a brutal, honest sincerity that a lesser man than Zack would have perished under. He contracted his fingers again tauntingly. "Exactly."

Zack gulped, metaphorically, and prayed to Shiva. There was only one out that he could see, as the General had obviously meant what he said, and was just crazy enough to carry out his threats. Gathering the nerve that made him the Zackary Donovan that he knew himself to be, he bid his life goodbye, and swung his foot out and up. He knew he'd connected with his intended target when Sephiroth's grip quickly disappeared and Zack hit the floor with an unceremonious thump, heaving in breaths as though his life depended on it.

Sephiroth looked up at him from his own place on the floor, his hands cradling his abused flesh. Sharp, untamed pain radiated from his eyes, but the unchecked rage had dissipated, and in its place, buried deep in the emerald pools, was an expression that looked a lot like pride. "Private," Sephiroth rasped lowly, "I'd demote you but it's virtually impossible to get any lower on the chain than…"

"Fuck you." Zack coughed. "You deserved a taste of your own medicine." Then, more to himself than Sephiroth. "Try to take my nuts off with his own hand, fucking insane!"

Sephiroth gave a dry chuckle. "Don't skip class any more, Zack, or you might curse us both to a life of chastity."

Zack stared at Sephiroth as the man called him by name, then gave him a tender smile. His eyes darted briefly over the General's figure. "Well I wouldn't want that." He murmured. He grinned. "Not even for a slave-driving, stick-in-the-ass General like you."


	3. I Have a Secret

Never Lost  
By: Phoenix Dayze  
Zack/Sephiroth  
PG-13

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII and make no profit from this fic.

Part Three

Sephiroth shifted in his chair, glad for once to be trapped behind his desk with a mound of never-ending paper work. If he'd had to coach drills today… He let out a heavy sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose with two artistically slim fingers. Over the last few weeks, he had formed a tentative friendship with the brash, personable Private Fair. _Zack_. He reminded himself. The younger man hated it when Sephiroth addressed him formally as their stations dictated they should, constantly correcting Sephiroth should he ever call him by anything other than his first name. _Zack_.

Zackary Fair was different than anyone Sephiroth had ever met, respectfully rebellious, and annoyingly quick-witted. He treated Sephiroth like an equal, not in rank, but as a person, as though, despite the sword, and the 'General', when all that was shoved aside, Sephiroth was normal, a regular guy who slept and ate and _smiled_—if Zack had anything to do with it—someone who needed to loosen up and have fun on occasion because _he deserved it_.

Zack seemed to spend most of his time during drills joking and fooling around, ribbing Sephiroth whenever he could, and he usually got away with little more than a scowl and a weary reprimand, because Sephiroth, as well as the other cadets, knew that Zack was already better than what they could ever hope to make him. Zack challenged Sephiroth's views on the world, sharing his own opinions freely, which were fairly mature for fourteen, if slightly skewed.

Zack believed in strength, not just of body, but of soul, he believed that if you wanted something bad enough, if you worked damn hard to get it, dreams would, inevitable, come true, but only if you had faith. He craved peace, and justice, and freedom, somehow mingling his desires for a better world, his solemn views on warfare and brutality, and his eager passion for the field into a stunning culmination of purposeful hope and fierce duty. Sephiroth fervently prayed that the young man never got disillusioned, because even though the world he wanted, the world he saw in his future would never exist, the beauty of such simple trust that Zack bore with pride was more than just refreshing. It was a fragrant lure, tugging at Sephiroth's heart, pulling him closer and closer, calling him in.

Sephiroth buried his face in his hands. While he enjoyed having a friend, someone who truly saw him as a _man_, not as a weapon or something to be feared, or worse, revered, and while he cherished the time they spent together, the truth was, Sephiroth _was_ a man. He had thoughts and needs just like everyone else. His body reacted when stimulated, and bled when cut. No one else seemed to see this, to understand such a simple truth...except Zack. The problem was, Zack didn't see that Sephiroth's body was reacting to _him_.

Sometimes suicide _did_ seem like an option, despite what people told you. The scissors looked awfully inviting... He was just contemplating whether or not a Shin-Ra issue staple to the eye would kill him, when the door to his office banged open with suspicious fervor. Sephiroth braced himself as he put the stapler back on the desk.

"Hey, Seph!" Zack bounced in, a cheery smile plastered across his stupid face. He pranced over to the desk and pounced nimbly up onto the polished surface, narrowly avoiding sending Sephiroth's hard-done papers flying. He grinned at the deathglare Sephiroth laid on him, and leaned back on his hands. "I have a secret." He stated calmly.

Sephiroth stared at the boy as if he'd grown another head. He'd interrupted his work for _this_? Surely not. Zack knew that Sephiroth _hated_ paperwork with a passion, so Sephiroth _knew_ that Zack would not be bothering him about something so trivial and insignificant as one of his multitude of 'secrets'. But Zack's gaze was that of lazy patience, amusement and mystery dancing about the corners of his mouth. Sephiroth supposed he could have been wrong before.

He gave Zack another long-suffering look, before he sighed, and put down his pen. "What do you want, Private?"

Zack frowned at the formal title, but brushed it off. "I said, I have a secret." He paused, then added, "Your royal Generalship."

Sephiroth sat in silence for a moment, then, "That's nice, Zackary," and went back to his papers.

Zack scooped the papers out from under his nose, leaving Sephiroth perilously close to writing on his desk. "Hey! You're not being very companionable!"

Sephiroth scowled. "That's because I'm _working_!" He drummed his fingers on the desk. "This better not be about that stick again..."

Zack grinned. "Nah! But that was a good guess! Glad to know you finally admit to being a..."

Standing, Sephiroth clamped a hand over Zack's mouth, annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Not one more word, Private." He hissed. "Another peep out of you on that subject, and I swear to Shiva that I will show you what a stick up the ass really feels like!"

Zack was stone silent as Sephiroth removed his hand. They stood at an impasse for a few minutes, waiting each other out. When Sephiroth was satisfied that Zack was, at least temporarily, staid, he settled himself back into his chair and picked up his pen. Putting it to the page, Sephiroth scrawled...a very long, undignified line as Zack let out a purposeful, very innocent-sounding "Peep!".

Sephiroth slammed his pen down on the desk, and peering up at Zack's blinking eyes, Sephiroth stuck his hands under Zack's thigh and flipped him solidly off the desk. The hard impact that reached his ears, along with the unchecked whine of pain brought a satisfied smile to Sephiroth's lips. This was the most relaxed he'd been all day. Apparently he'd just needed to vent his frustrations on some pathetic animal who didn't know any better than to bug him.

Zack slowly pulled himself up, and grumbling to himself, and rubbing his ass, he walked around the desk to stand next to Sephiroth's chair. And then, he just stood there...staring.

Sephiroth tried to get back to work, but those huge, violet eyes were distracting as Zack made them as hopeful and unassuming as possible. He turned in his chair and looked at the boy. "What now?"

"You swore. You can't back out now." Zack said solemnly.

Sephiroth blinked. "Huh?"

Zack continued in the same serious tone. "You swore to Shiva that you'd put your stick up my ass if I peeped." He nodded for emphasis. "Well...I peeped, so get to it, General!"

Sephiroth closed his eyes briefly and sighed. It was just one of those days. "Zack..." he began very calmly, sweetly, "if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to finish what I started the last time you bothered me in here. And then...I'm going to shove them up you nose." He growled.

"But you swore." Zack interjected. "Your stick. My ass. Start shoving!"

Sephiroth let the sweet tone go...and the calm. "Zack!" He yelled. "I'm not going to shove my stick up your ass! So you can..." Sephiroth trailed off, Zack's dubious double entendre suddenly registering. A furious blush seeped up his neck and onto his cheeks, and his mouth snapped shut with a teeth-rattling clack.

Zack petted Sephiroth's hair consolingly with one hand as he fished around in his pocket. After a moment, he pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, which he handed to the still silent Sephiroth. Then he turned and left as quickly as he'd come, shutting the door behind him.

Sephiroth stared at the paper in his hand. On the front, in Zack's questionable handwriting, were the words. _I have a secret._ Shaking his head at Zack's somewhat charming persistence, Sephiroth unfolded the paper. Inside it simply read, _I can make you blush._

tbc...


	4. By Invitation Only

Harshly, Sweetly You  
By: Phoenix Dayze

Disclaimer: I don not own Final Fantasy or its characters. Not even Zack

Oddly enough, it was raining. Sephiroth had expected the day to dawn bright and clear and damnably sunny, like Zack. Or at least, how Zack usually was. Lately the younger man had been disturbingly quiet, his regular rowdy behavior giving way to silent shiftiness. And where he used to be brash and in Sephiroth's face all the time, Zack had taken to averting his eyes and mumbling, and that was when he wasn't avoiding Sephiroth altogether. Sephiroth shook his head. Something was wrong with Zack. Maybe he was sick. Or worse, maybe Zack _hadn't_ really recovered from the traumas he'd suffered in Wutai after all. It hadn't been that long ago. Zack had actually been promoted to Second Class _on the field_, receiving leave long enough to get his Mako treatment, acclimate to the stronger dosage, and come back stronger and faster than ever. In Sephiroth's opinion, it was something that should have been done long before they'd left, but Hojo only listened to one man's advice. His own.

Looking in the mirror, Sephiroth studied himself one last time and wrinkled his nose. He felt awkward and out of place without his uniform, but buying the faded denim jeans he now wore had been the first thing Zack had asked of him since coming home. Sephiroth had felt so relieved to see a hint of the old, incorrigible Zack flitting beneath the surface, that he had let the boy bully him just long enough to feel justified in giving in so easily. Although he had to admit, the black silk shirt, which he left unzipped to mid-chest, felt almost scandalizingly good. He wasn't sure that he could ever remember wearing anything that wasn't leather. In that light, Zack had amazingly good taste. He _was_ comfortable.

Sephiroth sighed, and tied his hair back. With all the time that had passed, all the shit that had happened, none of it had changed how he felt about his lovably crazy bastard of a subordinate. If anything, his feelings had grown, intensified as he watched Zack maturing right before his eyes. Watched Zack change, learn, fight, kill, take a stand, do his job, win, live, break on the aftermath, push it back, choke it down, come out on top again. Yes, he'd been with Zack through all of it, and he loved him for it. Zack had become a man. And he was only sixteen years old.

Sephiroth cursed, glancing down at his watch. He was late. Late to a very important meeting. He smiled. A sixteen year-old's birthday party.

-----------------------

The Second Class housing block was unusually quite, and that was more than enough to set Sephiroth on edge. He'd expected noise, drunk teenagers, naked grinding, anything and everything but this. There was supposed to be a rather large, alcohol-laden party going on here, and yet...the place seemed deserted.

Confused, Sephiroth waded through the cluttered halls, following the nameplates until he came to Zack's door. _Lieutenant Fair/Corporal Davis_. He knocked lightly, and when there was no answer, he pulled his all-access keycard (Thank you, Lazard) out of his pocket, and swiped it over the sensor.

After the tell-tale click, Sephiroth opened the door and stepped into the room. It too was empty. That was strange. But stranger still, was that somehow, Zack's side of the room still came off tidier than his roommates, despite the fact that all the other man's things were packed into a few small boxes. Corporal Davis had been reassigned and was shipping out to Mideel in a few days. Zack hated the fact that he was losing his roommate, and had come to Sephiroth angry and distressed. Sephiroth had comforted Zack as best he could, but in the end, when you were a SOLDIER, you had to learn to let go of people sooner or later. Besides, Zack was getting a new roommate almost immediately, a Private fresh from boot camp. Sephiroth almost felt a little sorry for the kid. Most cadets roomed in the barracks, not with SOLDIERs, and especially not with Zack. But the barracks were full, and Zack would have a spare bunk.

Pointedly ignoring what _that_ thought led to, Sephiroth stole a moment to look around. He'd never been in Zack's rooms before, and he was curious. And he didn't think that Zack would mind. Unlike most SOLDIERs Sephiroth had known, Zack's sword wasn't proudly displayed above the bed like he'd expected. Instead, it was on the floor, slid just under the head, easily within reach, and, should he _need _to reach it, he would draw much less attention to himself just letting his hand fall, than reaching up over his head. Smart. Practical. And not at all the vain little jackass Zack had shown himself to be.

Unable to stop himself, Sephiroth lifted Zack's pillow—just to see—and was pleased to see a small black handgun. _Just in case you fail to awaken before your assailant is actually on you._ Sephiroth allowed himself to feel a small moment of pride. Zack had always boasted that he'd never use any weapon other than his sword. And while mirroring the sentiment, Sephiroth had spent several hours explaining to Zack about responsibility, being prepared, and knowing your enemies. He was glad to see that _something_ had gotten through.

Then, something else caught his eye. Underneath the gun was a solitary sheet of ShinRa stationary. Raising an eyebrow, Sephiroth bent down and picked it up. Scrawled in what would be painstakingly legible script for Zack, was his name, followed by a brief note.

_Seph,_

_Plans got a little altered. Sorry I didn't call. Don't ask, but I'm on the helipad. Lose the watch. I'll wait._

_Zack_

_Ps. Please come._

Sephiroth frowned. The helipad? What the devil was Zack doing up there? That was Shinra's own personal hunting grounds, if Shinra caught him, he could very well have Zack discharged on grounds of trespassing alone. And what about his party? He had assumed, mistakenly it would seem, that Zack had been looking forward to this. But apparently not if Zack was willing to just forget about it—forget about his friends, forget about begging Sephiroth to go, and just... _Be Zack_? His mind informed him. A fleeting, Zack-induced terror seized him, and Sephiroth drew dangerously close to chickening out. Maybe he should just go back to his rooms, lock the door, and pretend he'd never been born? His eyes fell on the note again. _Please come._ And he sighed. He couldn't do that to Zack. Not even if it killed him. One never knew with Zack's plans, particularly the ones you never saw coming. And on the plus side, maybe he was finally getting back into the swing of his old self?

Reaching down, Sephiroth flicked open the clasp on his watch and tossed it, almost nonchalantly, to Zack's pillow. Then, squaring his shoulders, he headed off to the helipad and prayed that all of Midgar wasn't about to come down on his head.

-------------------------

Getting to the helipad was no problem for Sephiroth, the guards quickly shuffling aside to give him an unnecessarily wide berth. He was the Silver General after all. But Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder how Zack had managed it. The boy really was…something. Life with Zack around was…treacherous, at best, unpredictable, troublesome, and more than a little frustrating. A small smile tugged at Sephiroth's lips as Zack's face flashed in his mind, incorrigible grin and all. Well, he if he could somehow manage to keep Zack by his side, the ups more than outweighed the downs. Not that he would ever let Zack know. Keeping Zack curious and on his toes was a kind of instinctual pleasantry on his part. As well as keeping the man in the dark about his feelings. But now…

Sephiroth stared at the cold, metal door that opened out onto the rooftop. On the other side, Zack was waiting for him. And it was quiet, too quiet, and he knew, _knew_ at that moment that the _only_ one waiting for him was Zack, that Zack was alone up here. Except for him. And he had been invited. By personal invitation. Written in Zack's very own, actually legible, hand.

Sephiroth took a moment to mentally smack himself for being what, for all intents and purposes, sounded like a sentimental schmoop. Zack had an uncanny, masculinity-crunching way of bringing that out in him. And on that note, the fact that he had been dressed for the part hadn't been lost on him. He'd been attired, in advance mind you, to fit into whatever role Zack had him slotted for in his latest game. Which was fine. As games went, Zack was fairly predictable, had been for the two years they'd known each other; Zack teasing and pushing his luck, trying to evoke a specific reaction from the "aloof, stoic, 'stick-up-the-ass' General", and Sephiroth fell into that role easily and comfortably, even if it wasn't, _precisely_ true. But Sephiroth didn't _know_ this game, which was a little unnerving. Since they'd met, Zack's games had never changed. And in true form, here he was, technically trespassing on ShinRa property, about to go out onto a deserted rooftop to meet a man who was _most definitely_ trespassing. None of that was really surprising. Not to Sephiroth. Not anymore. But traditionally, Zack _should_ have been getting shit-faced with his peers in what would arguably have been the most tasteless, extravagant version of a ShinRa party ever conceived. But he wasn't. He was here. Why?

Reaching out, Sephiroth put his hand on the doorknob, and realized that he couldn't turn it. A cacophony of 'what-ifs' echoed in his head, some of them unbearable. But Zack was worth the trouble, worth the worry and frustration he put Sephiroth through. Wasn't he? He had been in the past. Whatever evil the little devil's mind came up with that he usually practiced on the General, there was always something…Zack-like…on the end of it that made Sephiroth not really mind so much. To his own detriment, of course.

With that conclusion, Sephiroth did what any good General would do. He opened the door and stepped out onto the helipad.

Tbc… 


	5. In Love and War

Harshly, Sweetly You  
By: Phoenix Dayze

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or its characters. What a shame.

"You're late." Zack's voice was low, strained, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he spoke. His eyes were alive with Mako, the excessive gleam from his recent promotion to Second Class still struggling to even out, but instead of the usual quirky mirth, there was a strange quietness, and there was a solemnity in the set of Zack's mouth that was unfamiliar.

Sephiroth stared. What the hell was _wrong_ with the boy? Hadn't Zack's note expressly said _not_ to worry about the time? Turning, he closed the door with a bit more malice than was probably necessary, the metal clanging loudly. Annoyance skittered around his brain. _He invited me up here, abandoned his party, and that's all he has to say? _Frowning slightly, Sephiroth turned back to Zack, his voice bearing a bit more chill than he had really intended. "I don't remember your sweet, little note mentioning that I was on a schedule. In fact, I seem to recall something along the lines of, "lose the watch"." He brandished his bare wrist. "Besides," he added, "it's not _my _fault that you changed our plans and didn't tell me. If you had, I might have been on time."

Sephiroth could fairly see Zack's defense mechanism switching on as the boy's brows drew into a tight scowl, his eyes flashing. "You're pinning this on _me_?!"

Sephiroth threw out an arm, gesturing wildly around him. "We're on a _roof_, Zack!"

"So?"

"So?" Sephiroth scoffed. "Doesn't the fact that we're standing alone on the ShinRa helipad, in the rain, on your _birthday_, but not going anywhere seem a little strange to you?"

Zack frowned and cocked his head. "Well, yes, but…how does that make your being late my fault?"

"Because, Zack," Sephiroth spat out, "you were supposed to be in your barracks! Getting drunk! Or laid! Or whatever it is that high-ranking, teenage delinquents do!"

Zack froze, seemingly contemplating Sephiroth's words. "…You're right." He said after a long pause. "Maybe I did overstep myself a bit. Although…" His gaze turned inward, and an unusual grin captured the corner of his mouth. "You know, that's not a bad idea. I _should_ do that. Get laid, I mean."

That stung. Sephiroth wasn't sure if Zack's statement implied that he should finally "give it up" or if it was more of a "yeah, sex is good", but the idea of Zack engaging in _those_ kinds of activities, with other men, or worse, women, actually hurt. He realized that he had been rather naïve, not that he had assumed that Zack was a virgin, but simply that he'd deliberately forced himself not to think about it, and it occurred to him now that he had no idea. Not one clue. Basing things on Zack's past behavior, Sephiroth could only conclude that Zack had been sexually active since, well…birth. But he'd never seen him focus on anyone, so maybe it _was_ just all an act, just another of his games.

Swallowing thickly around the knot of jealous pain in his throat, Sephiroth followed Zack's example and put his hands in his pockets, feeling more confused and insecure than he'd ever had need to. He glanced at Zack before quickly shifting his gaze to the reflective markers at his feet. "Well why don't you? I'm sure your squad-mates will be more than happy to pool their paychecks and get you a good one."

Sharp, unmasked hurt flooded over Zack's face, and he swallowed hard. "I…" He swallowed again, licking his lips. "No…they wouldn't. My _real_ friends know me better than that."

"I'm sure they do." Sephiroth knew he shouldn't be saying these things, but he didn't care. No, that wasn't right. He _did_ care, it was just, with Zack, he didn't seem to have any control. So no matter how much he knew he _shouldn't_ say this, his mouth poured poison anyway. "So, have you fucked all of them, or just the pretty ones?"

The fist that connected with his face was unexpected to say the least, and Sephiroth went sprawling, the wet pavement hard and scraping against his back. He stared up at Zack, who was standing over him, his body trembling with barely restrained hate-fury, raindrops streaking down his face like tears. Then, Zack knelt down, straddling Sephiroth's hips, seized Sephiroth's collar in his left hand, and laid another solid punch against Sephiroth's jaw. And when the stars cleared from his vision, Sephiroth could see that some of the drops on Zack's cheeks _were_ tears, the Mako making them sparkle a bit in the moonlight.

Then, the words—the hateful, bitter accusations. "How dare you. How can you stand there and insult me like that? How could you think that I'd ever want something so meaningless? That I would _pay_ for sex? That I would use my rank to rape my men? I thought you were my friend! But…you don't…you don't know me at all."

But the words never came. Instead, soft, warm lips pressed ever so lightly against his own, aching, desperate, _needing _despite how chaste the contact was. And Zack's hands, his strong, capable hands, were slipping around his shoulders, fingers pressing into the soaked fabric of his shirt.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.

Zack whimpered, and answered the silent call, his tongue tracing lightly against Sephiroth's parted lips, and when it slid inside Sephiroth's mouth, it was hot and wanting too long and rain and how could you hurt me and love/need/_love_… Reaching up, Sephiroth clutched at Zack's shoulders, yanking the man's body closer to his own and took control of the kiss, putting into it all that he felt, everything he knew now that Zack wanted, and himself.

Harsh and sweet and everything together, they kissed, blaming, forgiving, asking, and telling. And Sephiroth could feel their bodies responding, even with the rain. And Zack felt so incredibly _real_, so amazingly _right_, that if Sephiroth could have died in that moment, he might have done it, just to be able to say that he'd died a happy man.

Zack had changed a lot in the last two years. Not the important things, the essence of Zack had remained unchanged throughout his training, his promotions, the Mako enhancements, even the war with Wutai hadn't gotten to his core, for which Sephiroth was still insatiably grateful. Zack still had that quirky disrespect, he still bore his name with pride, despite the shadows that clung to the SOLDIER Second Class reputation, and he was still a pain in Sephiroth's ass. And while the innocent views Sephiroth had admired had been altered a bit to adjust for maturity and experience, Zack was still full of hope and eager determination to set things right. To make dreams come true. And that was all that mattered.

That, and the feel of Zack's body against him, heart to heart. This was where he belonged, and nothing and no one—save Zack himself—could make him give it up.

But even Sephiroth hadn't known then, that in just a few short weeks, their lives would change forever, that something completely unexpected lurked just around the corner.

Zack would meet a boy by the name of Cloud Strife.

The End.


End file.
